Sweet Sixteen
by Adele Elisabeth
Summary: Set during 'Once Upon A Time'. Morganna Montaque receives a nasty surprise.


[Disclaimer: If JK Rowling created it, I do not own it]

Okay, this idea struck me while I was watching Star Trek Voyager, believe it or not, and wouldn't piss off until I wrote about it. Now, since I've never been in this position myself, Morganna's feelings are based on her personality and my own opinions. So I could be way off target. 

Sweet Sixteen

...one too many kisses

Summary: Set during 'Once Upon A Time'. Morganna Montaque receives a nasty surprise, and this is her reaction.

Morganna stared at the test and the results that Madam Pomfrey had silently handed her. 

"No. No, no, no, no, NO." The stricken young witch hurled the test to the floor. "I'm not. I can't be."

"Dear, the test--" Madam Pomfrey bent to pick it up, sighing. Poor dear. 

"Is wrong! It has to be! Do it again." Morganna shouted, hugging her knees to her chest on the hospital wing bed. "Please let it be wrong."

Poppy Pomfrey wished she could. She really, truly did. Such a sweet young thing, far too young for such a responsibility. From Morganna's distracted, broken monologue, Poppy gathered it had been the first mistake of it's kind, and likely the last. Looking at the girl's defeated eyes, not much else had gone right lately, either.

And now, those luminous blue eyes were the only part of Miss Montaque betraying her feelings. Somehow, she'd composed herself, and an almost eery calm surrounded her, wrapping around her like a familiar blanket.

"Is there somebody you want notified?" Poppy asked gently. 

It looked to the mediwitch as though her question nearly unravelled the poor girl, and Morganna's shoulders sagged as she answered softly, "Rene LaJoie. My butler."

"Not your parents?" Poppy's own expressive face told of her surprise.

"No. Not my...parents."

"And you'll be telling the father, then?"

"Yes. Jonathan O'Connell. Can he...can you send for him? I don't want to have to go find him."

"Of course, love. You just sit right there." Poppy bustled out of the room. 

Morganna had done what she always did when something happened she didn't feel able to cope with. She simply withdrew into herself. Later, privately, she would weep, and rage, and cast blame where it did not belong. It would make her feel better, if only a little, and for just a little while. 

For now, she was numb. It felt as though she were watching a particularly bad play, not happening to her at all. 

Or perhaps it was a nightmare, and if she pinched hard enough, she'd wake up...

"Morganna?" Jonathan's tentative voice broke through her reverie. After a moment, he walked properly in, and sat down on the bed, next to her. 

"Guess what," she said, faltering briefly before pushing on, "You're going to be a daddy."

Then, despite herself, she burst into tears.

Without thinking, the stunned and shocked seventh year took the weeping girl into his arms, and murmured barely coherent reassurances he was certain weren't helping.

To his surprise (and vast relief) she didn't hit him.

"...are you sure? The headmaster said that I could stay if..." Rene trailed off. "Princess, I don't want to leave you alone." 

"I'm not alone, Uncle Rene." She put on her bravest smile for him, as she saw him off. "I'll be fine. I have my friends. Lily, Jenni, Narcissa, mostly." 

"What about that Severus?" he probed, raising an eyebrow. "You mention him in your letters. I gathered you were close friends...?"

"We were." She agreed softly. 

"Care to elaborate?" Rene's gentle brown eyes caught her blue ones, and wouldn't let them go.

"No, not really. I just...made a mistake. A big one. Our friendship...it couldn't survive." She gave him another false smile. "It doesn't matter."

"Don't lie to me, princess, you're no good at it." He gave her one last hug. "You be sure to owl me if you need me. Morganna?"

"Yes?" she looked up.

"I love you." He kissed her forehead, and Flooed back to France.

When Morganna got back to her dormitory, she hid in the bathroom and broke down.

***

Morag: Talk about depressing. You people aren't happy unless we're all suffering. [Complains]

Adele: Talk to the hand.

Morag: [takes out her wand]

Adele: [snatches hand away] Okay, okay. Me write happy. Gotcha.

Morag: [regretfully puts wand away]


End file.
